


this cold war with you

by swiss  c h e e s e (dokkjaw)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Cold War, Dark, Hook-Up, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, One Shot, RusAme, Russian Roulette, Sexual Tension, cold war rusame, there’s a gun btw fair warning, this is that shit, ust up to your hair follicles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:01:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22258372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dokkjaw/pseuds/swiss%20%20c%20h%20e%20e%20s%20e
Summary: Alfred is sent to Ivan’s house in the midst of the Cold War. Stuff ensues.
Relationships: America/Russia (Hetalia)
Kudos: 68
Collections: Rusame





	this cold war with you

**Author's Note:**

> here we go

Alfred strolled down the hallway, whistling a tune he couldn’t remember the name of. He snapped his suspenders absentmindedly, eyes set forward to the door at the end. There were two guards standing there, wearing ushankas on their heads. Their faces were long, which Alfred noticed was common among Russians. The men were dressed in uniforms, resistant to the snow-which it was doing pretty hard outside. Alfred subconsciously wondered how they withstood it. It was fucking freezing.

Overall, they were of similar fashion to your average Soviet soldiers.

The men held guns, almost the size of their torso. They stared forward with set jaws, eyes not even glancing at the American. Fear rang through him, leaving him to wonder if it was a good idea to come in the first place. Alfred finally reached them, clearing his throat. 

“Mr. Jones.” The one on the left acknowledged, nodding. The other just stared anywhere but Alfred. Leftie pulled a huge lever, and the heavy looking door opened with a loud noise. “Is that to keep him safe?” Alfred asked curiously. 

“It’s to keep us safe.”

With that, the soldier stood back in his position. Alfred cautiously stepped in and forward, taking in his new surroundings. 

It was a dark room with a table in the center. There was a single light above it, illuminating the figure sitting at the far side. 

Snowy, platinum blonde hair sat ruffled underneath a Soviet Union hat. There was a matching Marshall uniform in the teal color all too familiar to the American robing the man. His face was additionally long, with raised cheekbones and haunting violet eyes. He blinked innocently, a small smile playing at his lips. “Hey, Ivan.” Alfred acknowledged.

“Sit.” 

Alfred, who was walking forward cautiously, just dropped into the seat at the command. He promptly crossed his legs and stared straight forward. His usual grin was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a set jaw and piercing eyes trained at the figure before him.

The Russian was smirking, son of a bitch. He sat in the other chair, the only thing separating them being a dark wood table. He shifted under the Americans gaze- though he hid his discomfort well, Alfred could easily tell it was there. It was all in the eyes.

“How do you play?” Alfred asked cooly, eyeing the gun that lay askew in the middle of the table. The tall man in front of him’s eyes lit up in delight. “Russian roulette? It’s simple.” He said, accent thick and low. “You load the bullet into the chamber,” he picked the gun up, placing the bullet in and spinning the cylinder near the holt, “and turn the chamber. Then...” 

He lifted the gun’s muzzle to the side of his head smoothly, smiling as he pulled the trigger. Nothing. “You shoot.”

Alfred smiled back grimly. “So it’s a game of luck?” The Russian put the gun back on the table, choosing his response carefully. “There’s some finesse to loading and turning it that comes with experience. That being said, da. It’s a game of pure good and bad luck.” 

Alfred laughed cockily. “Alright commie. I’ll play your little game. My turn.”

He swiftly picked it up, analyzing it for rigs that Ivan may have put on it to get Alfred out of the game quicker. He turned it to the left, holding it in front of his glasses. His eyes slid down the body of it. Aha. Alfred spotted the rig, holding the barrel so it would be more likely shoot. He smirked and pulled it out, eyes meeting the Russian’s.

Ivan scowled at him. That was all Alfred needed to know that it was placed on purpose. 

He returned to preparing the gun, spinning the chamber with ease and throwing the gun up into the air. He caught it, grinning at Ivan, who rolled his eyes in annoyance. 

Not wanting to annoy him further, Alfred checked it one more time before raising it up slowly, aware he was stalling. He felt a cold sweat start, palms feeling clammy. He swallowed hard, squeezed his eyes shut, then pulled the trigger. 

Nothing. Alfred sighed in relief and returned the gun to the table. He leaned forwards in his chair, intertwining his fingers and putting his chin on top of it. He smiled sweetly. 

Ivan chuckled, the sound barley a rumble in his chest. Alfred could feel the tension, immaturely wanting to break it by making a loud noise. He wondered how it’d feel to lay with him, eyeing the Soviets huge build. He pushed the thought away, almost squealing in horror at his mind. 

Ivan picked it up delicately, rotating the chamber. It barley reached his head before he shot. No dice. 

Alfred cursed under his breath, practically snatching it from Ivan’s hand. He turned the chamber nervously, then put it to his head. He frowned, hands shaking slightly. After a second he pulled it. Nothing. 

He laughed and proceeded to put it back on the table. Ivan picked it up and studied it. “This was my grandfathers gun. He wanted me to have it, since he sent me away.”

Alfred pursed his lips, taking in the random burst of information form his enemy. Why would he say that? Is he trying to manipulate me? 

As if reading Alfreds mind, Ivan shook his head. “That didn’t have a purpose, American.” He looked down, face covered in... red? He was blushing? 

Alfred almost couldn’t comprehend this. Why would he be blushing? Unless he liked me. Of course he doesn’t like you, numskull! That would explain the sudden color that took to his pale face, though...

Alfred decidedly ignored it. He didn’t want to embarrass him or anything. Ivan looked back up, composure regained with a new vigor. Instead of turning the barrel though, he just lifted it to his head. 

“No-!” Alfred cried, jumping out of his chair, which fell to the ground with a loud BANG. He lunged forward at the man, slapping the gun away and onto the floor. He looked up frantically to see Ivan smirking. 

Alfred regained his senses and noticed he was laying across the table, pushing himself up to Ivan’s level with his hands. He quickly tucked his legs in, and Ivan pulled them forward so that they fell on either side of him. 

Alfred swallowed again, mouth slightly parted. This was not what his boss told him to do. This was wack. This was-

Ivan interrupted, slamming their mouths together. Alfred sat shocked, then melted into it. He put his arms on the Russians shoulders, pushing him so that he hit the back of the chair. Hard.

Ivan just moaned, hesitantly putting his hands on the blonde’s abdomen. Alfred almost laughed at Ivan’s sudden... shyness? He couldn’t tell. 

Alfred pushed again, the chair falling. He braced his hand out and held the chair up, not breaking the kiss. Ivan gasped, but brushed it off when he saw what had happened.

Alfred gently finished the fall, the chair hitting the ground softly. He snorted, and pulled Ivan, rolling them away from the table and into the darkness.  
-

When Alfred walked out, he had a suspendier strap hanging loose and his hair a mess- random strands sticking up from the mop of blonde. The guards didn’t comment, but Alfred assumed they would when he was out of earshot.

Al didn’t care.


End file.
